Hopeless Romantic
by drunk-on-disappointment
Summary: I always told her how much she means to me and I always promised to be there for her. It's a shame that there are some promises you can't keep. Elsanna, Modern Au, mentions of suicide, character death (I'm so sorry)


If you haven't seen _The Mist, _well, my friends, I am sorry because this does contain spoilers for said movie. I do suggest watching it though (although the books much better)

* * *

You never believed in yourself. I was always the one to push you, hold you, tell you you were something special, something amazing in the world.

You would shake and tears would cloud your eyes whenever you doubted yourself. Whenever something didn't work, like that time you dropped your mother's plate and it shattered on our kitchen floor, you cried and I had held you right there, right in front of the refrigerator.

I was always romantic like that.

When you weren't selected to present that _stupid_ opening speech or when you were preparing to present your thesis, you came to me and I told you you weren't a failure.

I told you it was okay to be scared.

You're smile was so big once you nailed it, and I taught you to believe in yourself. Because I believed you could do great things. All I had to do was show you.

You never thought anyone would love you, and I remember when I first told you I did.

It had slipped out. We were on your sofa, before we moved in together. I think we were watching _The Mist_. I chose that because I know you hated it and you would hide your face in my neck, and you would squeeze my hand, and I had felt it in my chest then.

I had said it during then end, where the father was about to kill himself.

Like I said, I was always the romantic one.

You ran away after that. Well, first you were frozen, stiff, and I thought... I didn't know what I thought. I think I thought you were going to say you didn't feel the same.

But you ran away, you told me to leave and then you locked yourself in your room. But I never left. I told you I would never leave you and I never broke that promise.

You came out eventually, apologizing left and right, and I only held you. You had said you loved me that night, when we were lying in your bed, still in our day clothes. I was playing with your blonde hair. You weren't wearing a braid then.

You were always scared to make commitments. When you were little, your dad would stumble home drunk at one in the morning when you had school the next day and your mom would scream and he would scream back. I remember one night when it was so bad you called and I could hear the desperation in your voice.

You slept in my bed that night; you had climbed in at 3 in the morning after I picked you up and we had stayed home that day.

I think that was the day I started to love you. I woke up with you in my arms, your own wrapped around my waist, and I had laughed at your hair, so messy and ridiculous. You had called me a hypocrite and laughed along. We never spoke about your dad, because he left the next day and nobody looked back.

You thought I wouldn't stay, but I had told you I would always be there, and I never wanted to break that promise to you.

I remember that night. The forecast never called for rain, but I got out of work and it was pouring. I was drenched before I had even taken five steps out of the main door. I laughed when I got in the car, because I could imagine you in my head laughing at my frizzy hair once I would get home.

I never did make it home.

They told you my car was crushed, twisted, crumbled by the side of the road. A drunk driver mixed with a horrible storm.

I had bought you flowers before I stopped home that night. They were covered in blood in the backseat. My blood.

I always tried to be romantic.

You never believed in life after death. I did. I wish I could tell you you were wrong. I wish I could convince you about that like I could with everything else.

I watched as you tossed the rose, so much like the rose I had bought you, into my grave. You had walked right past me and you had shivered from the cold.

I used to be able to warm you. You told me that. With my hugs, my laugh, my eyes, my kisses, my arms, even my fiery hair. Now, I was as cold as the same winter air that made you shiver. Maybe I caused that.

I watched you everyday after that. I couldn't leave, even if I wanted to. I didn't, not really. But when I watched you, at night, when you were alone, I didn't want to be there.

I couldn't watch that.

I couldn't stop you, not even if I tried. Blood had filled the sink. It ran down your arms. It spilled onto our bathroom floor. It was smeared all over you, your clothes, Kristoff when he knocked down the door.

I stood there. I couldn't do anything. Everything I told you before was gone, replaced with the utterly chilling loneliness on your part and mine.

You finally believed me about life after death.

You stood next to me at your funeral.

It was bittersweet. I had wanted you to live, to try, because I believed in you, because I loved you.

I still love you.

We watched as Kristoff placed a rose, so similar to the one you gave me, on your grave right next to mine.

I picked it up and gave it to you.

I was always a hopeless romantic.

* * *

**This is what happens when I take a break for 5 minutes to listen to music. Why I chose to listen to Skinny Love I will have no idea, since that song always gives me major feels. Just had to write this up. Good thing I'm a fast typer. **


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